The Trouble with Mojitos Read Online Free

guest car park, it wasn’t too hard to work out which car was Rik’s. The car park was packed full of vehicles that were obviously rentals – all but one, a sleek black Lamborghini.
    Doing ‘Nothing much’ clearly paid a lot of money. Perhaps he really was a pirate. Or a drug smuggler. What if she found packages of cocaine stashed beneath the seats?
    With her heart knocking against her ribs, Kenzie scoured the car for clues. Nothing. Not a driver’s licence, no scraps of paper – not even a bank bag of marijuana. Relieved by the last but frustrated by the first, she sat down in the passenger seat and racked her brains.
    Who was this man? A local, a guest at another hotel? His accent was indistinct. There’d been a hint of something European, but equally he spoke as if he’d learned his English at Eton or Harrow.
    She rubbed her forehead. Was anyone missing him?
    She jumped as a shadow moved beside her.
    “Found anything?” the manager asked, bending down into view.
    She shook her head. “Nothing. Did you check if he had any ID on him, or credit cards?”
    “Of course. The only thing in his wallet was cash.”
    What kind of man drove a fancy sports car but didn’t even have a credit card? In her experience, wealthy people always had plastic of the platinum variety, and weren’t afraid to use it.
    Unless her pirate needed to conceal his identity?
    Perhaps he was an assassin. Or a stockbroker caught embezzling funds who was now on the run from the law.
    She climbed out the car and slammed the door shut. “There’s only one thing to do then.”
    “What?”
    “You’ll have to put him up in a room for the rest of the night.”
    The manager drew up his thin shoulders, offended. “We don’t just give out rooms to everyone who gets drunk in this hotel. I’ll have to call the police.”
    Kenzie rubbed her temple where an ache had begun to bloom. If Rik spent the night in a police cell, what were the chances he’d be able to take her to the mayor’s office any time soon? Assuming of course that hadn’t all been a big fat lie.
    She squeezed her eyes shut. He’d seemed genuine enough when he offered. Unwilling, but genuine.
    Damn him. She needed the mayor’s permission so she could do her bloody job and get off this island and carry on with the rest of her life. Which meant she needed him.
    “Fine,” she snapped. “He can sleep in my room.”
    There was a sofa. And Rik was so out of it, he’d never even notice he was way too tall for it.
    Back in the hotel lobby, Rik lay on a plush banquette, the barman hovering wearily nearby. On the plus side, and unlike Brett, her most recent and completely unlamented ex, Rik neither snored nor drooled in this state.
    As the two now red-faced hotel employees manhandled him into the lift, Rik surfaced long enough to mumble “sod them all” before sinking back against the glass wall.
    Sod you too
, Kenzie thought.
And Neil, for sending me into this mess
. Though in all fairness, she couldn’t blame the film’s producer. She’d wanted this job. Had begged for it.
    As noiselessly as they could, they half-carried, half-dragged Rik down the corridor to her room and she opened the door with her key card.
    “On the sofa,” she instructed the men, and they dumped Rik unceremoniously down.
    “Are you sure I shouldn’t call the police?” the manager asked, eyeing Rik’s prostrate form.
    “Absolutely not,” she said, in the crispest, most professional voice she could muster at this time of night. Or this time of morning.
    The barman and manager couldn’t get out fast enough, and Kenzie didn’t stop them. She latched the door behind them and sagged against it.
    There had to be worse ways to spend a Friday night, although nothing sprang to mind.
    Her gaze fell on Rik, twisted uncomfortably on the sofa. Tough shit. Served him right if he woke with a sore back as well as a sore head.
    It was only when she’d undressed and climbed into bed that she noticed the piece of